Born in November 23, 1920 / Died in April 20, 1970 / Germany / German
Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.
The heart hid still in the dark, hard as the Philosopher's Stone.
Poetry is a sort of homecoming.
Reality is not simply there, it must be searched and won.
Death is a master from Germany.
No more sand art, no sand book, no masters.
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